Trainwreck
by glimcold
Summary: Wade makes a post on a "dating site" that's totally a cover for hooking up during heats and ruts. Peter (very innocently browsing said site) mistakes Wade for a bigoted Alpha that's been posting fake profiles to corner gay Omegas and Betas - his post is just that absurd. / ABO AU / Spideypool
1. Chapter 1

Part 0

This is a bad idea, and White tells him so at least a dozen times. Yellow is a little too distracted by all the pretty pictures this _Heat Matcher_ website is full of to say much of anything. Stock photos of smiling couples holding hands and kissing while backlit by the sunset. It's selling the idea that somehow a heat-rendezvous will lead to love.

Typical _Wham! Bam! Thank you, ma'am!_ but with some love or romance in there somewhere. Maybe between the whamming and bamming. Or maybe that's the thanking?

While part of Wade is laughing, the other part almost wants to believe it.

A bitch of an Alpha with a fucked face and a fucked body and a _fucked_ mind doesn't get a fairytale romance. He should know this by now, especially considering how many of his lovers and partners have ended up dead. Even if a one-night stand or a friends with benefits sort of deal could possibly turn into an honest to god romance for a normal guy, Wade knows it's not going to happen for him. That's just common sense.

This is a fanfiction, though, so maybe he can let himself fall for the fantasy for just a little while.

 _ **Not a good idea.**_

 _A great idea!_

Wade ignores them both and blazes on, cracking his knuckles over the keyboard before leaning in, preparing to make a drool-worthy profile. Gonna advertise his assets: thicc, nice teeth, nice tongue, butt ugly so you know he has to make up for it by giving good, lots of money, total Sugar Daddy material here, waterbed….

 _ **This isn't a good idea.**_

"Wow, I wonder where I've heard that before."

 _This is the best idea we've ever had!_

 _ **I think his approval speaks volumes. This is a terrible,**_ **terrible** __ _ **fucking idea. Worst one we - no, no - fuck you - this is your idea not mine. Mine would be much better.**_

 _The best!_

Wade ignores them harder. He knows this is a bad idea, and that's why he's doing it. Stupid ideas are sort of his thing, after all. Not to mention this is like suicide (social suicide?) and he does love a good knife to the heart (dick? balls? the dried up and shriveled emotions that he totally doesn't have?).

( _ **What the fuck kind of bullshit-**_ )

If he's going to go out, he's going to go out swinging - or, perhaps more accurately, with a Beta puking on his shoes after an eyeful of his ugly mug - ooor maybe he'll get lucky and he'll at least get his cock out before any puking takes place; both are gross as fuck, both are puke-worthy. Details, details.

He hasn't done anything like this since his stint in _Miss Victoria's House of Alpha's_ (real classy, real on the nose) when he was young, handsome, and every inch the Alpha. People actually _paid_ to fuck him he was so damn pretty. Despite that experience, he's never been on this side of things, or doing it in such a mind-numbingly _legal_ way. No prostitution, no seedy shops, no wondering if you're going to get a serial killer instead of a John. Pretty boring.

Just Alphas and Omegas getting hooked up with some willing Betas. So no pregnancy scares, either, he guesses. Only problem is, they need pictures of him. They want some sort of "dating" style thing to go on here, and he hasn't dated since never.

 _ **It's just a shady cover.**_

"Oh _my_ ," Wade gasps, fluttering his lashes behind his mask and clasping a hand to his chest like a scandalized, southern lady. Unfortunately, the effect is lost to all but the boxes. "So maybe _not_ so legal. I'm liking this better already."

Going through the pictures on his computer, he taps his chin, humming. Most of these are just of Ellie or Nessa. He has to go very far back to find any pictures of himself, at least ones where he's not a mangled mess of flesh only in the picture for Ellie's sake. Picking one where he has his arm slung around Vanessa, he crops it so only his face is showing and quickly uploads it to the site.

 _ **Asshole.**_

"What?" he drawls, moving onto writing his profile summary.

 _ **You're going to make some poor sap think they'll actually get to fuck someone attractive.**_

"Shut up," Wade huffs. "It's _me_ at least. I mean, I still have the cheekbones."

The boxes both grumble and mumble in response, but he does his best to tune them out.

"How about ' _DP Daddy_ ' for my screen-name. That's cool, yeah?"

 _ **We aren't getting laid.**_

"Pan… as… hell," he murmurs, typing it up. "Love me… some… tits. Also… ass. Switch. Really, really want someone to fuck me, though. Ladies are welcome to peg me. Could really go for a big, buff, macho man right about now. Rut in just a few days. Please, oh please, step on me-"

 _ **Needy much?**_

 _Tell them you're good to stab._

 _ **No. God, no.**_

 _They're more likely to be up for fucking us if they know they can take out all that Alpha rage on another Alpha!_

 _ **No. N. O. No. This site isn't even for Alpha-Alpha hookups, dumbass!**_

"Shh…. I'm going to get a handsome Beta or a kinky Alpha or an even _kinkier_ Omega to beat me up…."

 _ **Your masochism knows no bounds.**_

 _The best idea! Think of all the handsome Betas who can fuck us into oblivion!_

 _ **The point is to fuck**_ **them** _ **.**_

"Wow, stereotyping much?" Wade counters.

 _ **It's not my fault you're a fucking terrible Alpha.**_

Wade chooses not to answer that.

"Okay…. That part's done. Now… contact info…."

Someone clears their throat. Wade jerks his head up to find a barista awkwardly shifting from foot to foot in front of him. She looks really uncomfortable. Now that he thinks about it, most of the small coffee shop seems to look pretty uncomfortable. People have given him a wide berth and many are peering out of the corner of their eyes.

Taking all of this in, Wade sits back and scratches his ass. "So, uh, how much of that did I say out loud?"

The barista does not look amused.

"Aw, shit…" he mutters.

"Sir, while I appreciate that you purchased," she wavers, glancing at the three muffins and two hot chocolates Wade has already gone through, then continues, "so much, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Right, right! Just-"

"Like, _right_ now."

"But-"

Another employee has come to stand behind her. This one is wringing his wrists and shifting from foot to foot. Behind his glasses, his big ol' eyes keep flicking from Wade's mask to the floor beneath him. He has a cellphone in one hand. "Sir, I think you're dripping… something on the floor," he says, worriedly.

Peering down, Wade purses his lips. "Why, that I am!"

The woman looks disgusted. "What the hell?"

He grins apologetically behind the mask. "That… is not piss, just to clarify."

" _Sir-_ "

"It's blood."

Wade practically bolts from the hipster-y, little coffee shop, laptop tucked messily into his Captain America bag strapped to his back. Yelling apologies to the poor girl who's going to have to clean up after him, he hops around an old man and then a corgi, trying his best to get his ass out of there.

"I'm calling the cops!" she cries.

"I understand! Tell the chief I say 'hi' if you get the chance!"


	2. Chapter 2

Part 1

There's a response.

It's been only two hours since Wade posted his online profile, hoping to get some hot piece of ass to pound him into oblivion for his rut, and he's already gotten a _response_. Wild.

Chewing his lip, he sits in the dark of his apartment and blinks up at the ceiling. The fan is droning because shit is New York hot (or maybe it's the first prickles of his godforsaken rut, already beginning to set in a few days early as a cherry on top of this shitshow). He sort of assumed he'd post it then nothing would happen. Honestly, he's not sure how to even go about dating anymore, let alone dating online, and he sure as hell isn't sure how to casually hook up for a rut without needing to pay for it.

And there's a _response!_ Already! A person already interested enough to contact his crusty ass!

 _ **Probably because you used that old picture, let's be honest.**_

It's so undeniably true that Wade doesn't even bother denying it.

For a long moment, he stares at the screen of his phone. The email contains no further details than _New message! Login to reply_ , and part of him is thankful for it. He's almost expecting some wisecrack about his skin despite there being no way anyone viewing his profile could know about it.

Then again, now that he thinks about it, maybe they could. Maybe the Avengers are still keeping track of him. Maybe Stark thinks it would be funny to poke some fun; after Wade told Steve he needed a new husband during that last team up, he was pretty pissed. Maybe someone (Weasel probably) just recognized him and is messaging to tell him to get a life and stop posting old pictures of himself on the interwebs ( _Ha! Webs!_ ).

 _ **Paranoid much?**_

Stomach knotting ( _Ha! Knotting!_ ), he shifts in bed uncomfortably and sits up to grab his laptop. He knows he's going to need to type properly for this one.

While it boots, Wade wraps a blanket around his shoulders and punches his pillow, getting it nice and fluffed so he can tuck it against his chest. Sighing, he drags his thumb over the trackpad and clicks through to the website. Everything about this is stupid, and he probably should have listened to White, but what's done is done. Here he is. Here the message is. Might as well look.

 **James Smith has messaged you!**

He scratches the patchy beard just barely forming on his chin, wincing when he realizes he doesn't have his gloves on so hello skin-to-skin contact.

( _More like scar-to-scar!_ )

 _ **Sure is a boring name.**_

 _I bet he's cute! I bet he's a big, strong Alpha!_

 _ **You do understand this is for rut, right? We're supposed to hook up with a Beta. You know,**_ **not** __ _ **get the shit beat out of us by another Alpha or get some poor Omega knocked up.**_

Wade swats at the air next to his ear as if he can brush them away. He clicks the link to the man's profile and pauses. The picture provided is of a pretty, plain blond with bright blue eyes. He's a Beta, and apparently gay. His bio is sugary and romantic and it just makes Wade _bored_.

"What even is this?" he mutters, still scratching. "I said I wanted to be pounded. This guy's a twink with an obvious boner for the typical romance. Probably watches _Bareback Mountain_ on repeat and cries about it - not that I'm one to judge, but-"

 _ **Okay…. First off:**_ **Brokeback. Brokeback Mountain.**

 _Are you really complaining? He's cute! He's interested! Our rut is so close, who even_ cares _?_

 _ **No, he's right. This is stupid. Why would he contact you? He obviously doesn't want to be on top of anyone or anything. I mean, you did put switch, though.**_

 _Now who's stereotyping! So what if he's a little on the smaller side? Vanessa was small and she could still fuck you into the mattress!_

"Shit, he's right."

 _And what about Shiklah? She could whoop your ass, too!_

"Damn right."

 _And Siryn, too! She'd dom our dumb ass until-_

 _ **Okay, okay - I really don't think the readers are interested in hearing about**_ **that** __ _ **trainwreck.**_

 _Name drop!_

"Alright, boys! We're getting laid by a hot blond!"

He goes into the message, and falters.

 **Hello! I just saw your profile and thought we might be a good match! Would you like to chat?**

The boxes, for once, are quiet while Wade types up his response. Then he gets cold feet, deleting the whole thing, and they won't shut the fuck up.

"I'm not sure I can do this," he says, voice high and croaking. "It's not high! Cut that line! It's perfectly manly!"

 _Not really!_

 _ **You sound like a goddamn teenager.**_

"Perfectly manly!"

 _ **We didn't come this far for you to pussy out. Get your act together.**_

 _Yeah!_

 _ **Fucking answer the twink.**_

 _Yeah!_

 _ **If shit is going to go down, I'm not letting you halfass this thing.**_

 _Yeah!_

Groaning, he types up the most reasonable message he can come up with. "Feels like I'm sweating bullets."

 _ **If you could, it would save us a lot of money.**_

 _There was that one time you shit a few out after the_ fun _with Deathstroke._

 _ **Why would you bring up that piece of shit now of all times?**_

That earns a chuckle, and Wade is just distracted enough that he doesn't stop himself from hitting send.

 **hiya cutie whats a sweet thing like you doin single?**

 _Wait, I just realized something…._

"Oh no…."

 _ **You? Realize something? Sounds fake.**_

 _Do we have to pay him?_

… _**Um….**_

"No? I mean, maybe? Does it matter?" he grumbles, pouting at the picture of the man. "Y'know, I wonder what Spidey looks like-"

 _ **Here we go….**_

"Whaaat? It keeps me up at night!" Wade whines, poking around the man's profile. "Bet he's gorgeous. With an ass like that, you know God had to give him a pretty face."

 _ **If God is real, he's a**_ **real** __ _ **sick fuck.**_

 _I'm not sure we can say - I mean, everything that's happened to us is our writers' faults, really._

 _ **And God made them so here we are, a manifestation of their fucked up nature.**_

Grunting, Wade pokes through the tabs on the profile that should lead to more pictures and more info, but instead he's met with nothing. "Y'know… there isn't a lot here…."

 _Maybe he just made the profile?_

"Nah, it's fake."

 _ **Jesus Christ you're paranoid.**_

"No, I'm serious. Besides! Who was against this shit from the start?"

Wade drags the photo of the man to another tab. Google does its thing and there they are: stock photos, of all things; they're not even from a hot babe's Insta.

( _I feel like a spy-haxxor-dude!_ )

"This guy isn't real," he says cooly, scrolling through the similar pictures that pop up. They're all of the same man posing for some cheap photoshoot. He closes the tab and leans back, pressing his fingers to his eyes harshly.

Something dark settles in the pit of his stomach, twisting and churning. He's itching for a knife - something that will make the pain go away.

 _ **Don't tell me you got your hopes up….**_

When Wade doesn't answer, the boxes stay quiet.

Returning to his messages, Wade stares at the dots at the bottom of the screen that indicates typing. "What's the point of making a fake profile?" he asks, voice sharp.

 _Maybe he's like you! I mean ugly! Like you! So he uses a fake pic! Like you!_

 _ **Oh, the irony.**_

"Heeey… _yeah_! That's right! Could just be a nasty fuck like me! Could've just made his profile, too!"

 _ **Pretty sure I saw a date on there that read he posted it three months ago. Plenty of time to add some actual detail to it.**_

"You're just bitter!"

 _We're gonna get laid by an ugly fucker!_

 _ **No, you're fucking stupid and you need to actually think before you jump into this. You already about shit yourself at the thought of being played - which is still a very real possibility! - and now you're just going to continue with-**_

There's a ding.

"Message!"

 _ **Goddamnit.**_

 **Haha you're sweet! I could ask you the same thing, handsome ;)**

Wade shoves the computer back and hops off the bed, nearly tripping over his sheets but quickly righting himself before he's sent sprawling headfirst into his sword stand. White chokes and berates him for it immediately, but he's a little too distracted to care.

Giddy and full of energy. he's itching to shoot something, but in a good way this time.

"Holy shit why haven't I been online dating for years now?" he giggles a little wildly, a little too happily. "It's perfect! I get to see dick pics and no one has to see my face!"

 _ **For fuck's sake-**_

 _Diiick!_

"No! Seriously! Imagine-"

His computer dings again and he twists around, belly-flopping onto the bed to see the message.

 **You like to bottom, yeah?**

Wade squeals like a girl, burying his face in the pillow.

 _ **Oh, geez….**_

 _We're getting laid!_

 _ **Did I mention this is a bad fucking idea?**_

He has - about ten times just today, actually - but Wade stopped fucking caring around the second time. He's not really in the mood for Debby Downer to ruin this for him. He spent the last five hours making his apartment look presentable (cleaning up the takeout, scrubbing the blood stains, shoving his weapons in the closet) and his mood can't be ruined. He's going to have a nice dinner from _Toloache_ with this motherfucker he met online. Then he's gonna wait a day for his rut and get fucked.

Okay, maybe he won't wait. Why would he? Why _should_ he?

Sure, giving a stranger his address and inviting them over when he's already sure they're lying about their identity is probably not a great idea (not to mention he's already clarified he's all about bad ideas), but what's the worst that can happen? If the guy is a creep, he'll just kill him. Save the whole world a little bit of trouble. If the guy is a creep and stronger than him, he'll just let himself be killed then come back and get a little revenge. If the guy is _actually_ cute, maybe there will be some puke on his carpet when the kid sees Wade's face or something but no harm, no foul and he'll at least have company for dinner.

 _ **You're going to get us a stalker or some shit.**_

 _Better than being alone forever!_

"There we go! Bright side to everything!"

Moving around the couch, Wade sets out the containers of _carne asada_ tacos and those cinnamon things he stopped to get from _Taco Bell_. Like the gentleman he is, he also snagged a rough-looking rose from a street vendor. He puts some water in an old can then slips the rose right in.

"Ah, yes…. A romantic dinner."

 _ **We aren't getting laid.**_

"Spoilsport."

 _ **You just put a rose… in a fucking can… and then put that can on a table full of cinnamon twists and tacos.**_

"It worked for Nessa!"

 _ **Vanessa was a piece of work just like you. And even she would have been freaked out if you had pulled this shit on your**_ **first date** _ **.**_

 _We did pull this shit on our first date._

"See? It's all gonna be fine."

 _ **You also paid for that first date.**_

Wade knows it's not going to be fine. He wanted to do something nice even though this is just a hookup (if that), only problem is he's not sure exactly how much is too much, especially considering the situation. More importantly, how honest is too honest?

Rubbing his jaw, he admires the packages of food and the rose. "This probably counts as _too_ honest."

 _Definitely._

 _ **You don't say….**_

Cheeks hot, Wade groans and turns to look at the computer on the kitchen counter. Embarrassment tightening his chest, he pouts at it tiredly. "I should… cancel I guess."

 _ **No shit.**_

 _Nooo…._

"I don't wanna…. I don't know. I'm tired of looking like an idiot."

 _ **Too bad you are one.**_

 _But the ugly Beta…._

And, of course, that's when the doorbell rings.

 _ **I fucking hate fanfiction.**_

 _We're getting laid!_

Wade rushes to the door, pathetically eager and lacking the sense he needs to be cautious. He pauses once there and straightens the button-down he put on over his suit before checking to make sure his mask and gloves are on. Can't have the guy vomiting before he even steps inside.

With a deep breath, he opens the door.

Standing in front of him is a tall, lean kid. He's got a hood drawn over his head but he peers out at Wade with big, doe eyes which quickly sharpen upon spotting the mask. Cheekbones that could cut, lips soft as all hell, and a jaw to die for - this kid has no reason to use a fake pic on the web and it's a huge red flag.

 _ **No fucking shit.**_

After a moment, Wade sucks in yet another breath, intending to invite the pretty thing inside before he gets the sense to leave, but immediately kid is swinging his fist. He catches his wrist instinctually, but he can't stop the kid from sweeping his legs out from under him, only roll with it and drag him down, too.

Wade lands hard on his ass, and the boy lands even harder on his chest, knocking the breath out of him. Full lips parted, the he's panting and his skin, pale as ivory, is going pink already. Up close, Wade can see the sprinkle of freckles so light they're barely there on his cheeks and the dark edge around his irises and shit is he gay.

When he breathes in, the kid's scent is so goddamn thick that he can _taste_ it - but the funny thing is he has no definable endotype. If he was on suppressants, he'd smell all baby-fresh like youngins before they present, but he doesn't. He smells sharp like an Alpha but sweet like an Omega and subtle like a Beta. Wade is so goddamn confused he doesn't think to grab the kid around his waist. It gives him the upper hand, allowing him to rear up.

Eyes dark and brow knit, he's a fuckign sight to behold.

Wade is distracted, like the idiot he is, and it earns him a knee to the balls.

Wheezing, he arches his back as if to get away and chokes out, " _Holy mother Mary of fuckin' shit_!"

 _ **Dumbfuck. I told you this was a bad idea.**_

 **Thanks for reading! You can find me on tumblr glimcold and early access to the next chapter can be found on my page!**


	3. Chapter 3

Part 2

There's a gorgeous boy on top of him - one deceptively slim but actually thick with muscle and almost preternaturally strong - one that smells of Alpha, musky and acrid at the back of his throat with every breath he takes; but then of Beta, fresh and clean like rain on your skin, calming but disorienting; and finally of Omega sweetness and blood, toxically appealing in an almost nauseating way with his rut so close. Nose flared, he chases after the scent, breathing it in through parted lips, trying to catch it and settle on just _one_ , but he can't.

Dizzily, he realizes there isn't one to find.

Even as the kid thrashes and grinds his knee into his balls in a way that just isn't as sexy as it could ( _ **And shouldn't.**_ ) be, he's sitting there, dumbstruck by his scent and steely eyes. He can't look away, too caught up by the flush spreading over wicked cheekbones to be concerned about the state of his poor _cojones_. In all his years and through all the weird shit he's experienced, he can't say he's ever met someone without a type.

 _ **You're a fucking idiot. Do something before he gets bored of trying to punch your gut with those pretty hands of his and knees us in the balls again.**_

"But he's so gorgeous," he whispers back, watching as the boy's eyes widen with confusion and fear. God, he's precious like this and the scent of a challenging Alpha fills the air, rich and suffocating; baby boy isn't going to let up, that much is clear. Wade groans before sighing, high on the endorphins and the instincts telling him to _fight_. It's a rush like no other, his mind foggy with hormones and adrenalin and all those nice things.

The man stiffens and his scent grows thicker in the air. "Who are you talking to?" he demands, and his voice is scratchy and young, his breath insanely sweet.

Wade practically whines. "And the _smell_ …."

 _ **He's a fucking mutant, you dingus - why do you think he smells like that, huh? The point is, he might actually kill us.**_

 _We can only hope…._

 _ **Well, that's true. The only pleasure I'll ever know is the sweet release of-**_

 _Ooof this not-Alpha fucking us into the floor!_

 **Death** _ **. The sweet release of**_ **death** _ **.**_

Before he can respond, pretty boy redoubles his efforts, throwing his whole body down to elbow the him in the stomach. Wheezing wetly, Wade mutters a few choice words. Still, his grip on pretty boy's pretty wrist doesn't waver.

"Hey, uh, you are the guy from the website, yeah?" he asks conversationally, pausing as the boy shifts to grind his elbow just beneath his ribs. It hurts, and the kid knows what he's doing if only in a "I took a self defense class at my liberal arts college one time" sort of way, but any damage is too minor to keep him quiet for long. "I mean, I assumed but maybe I shouldn't assume-"

The other man's eyes go all steely (and sexy) again, and suddenly his hand is around Wade's throat, the pressure there just barely enough to hurt. "Why were you luring people here?" His voice is dangerously even; Wade loves it. "Is anyone else with you?"

Staring up at him dumbly, Wade says nothing. He's a little occupied with trying to follow the non-sequitur reasoning going on here. "Um, to-to get laid?" he says eloquently. "And no? I mean, just my neighbors, I guess. I don't know."

The look on the guy's face is so goddamn _exasperated_ that he actually snorts in response before clasping his free hand over his mouth. Unimpressed, those sharp eyes narrow, and suddenly pretty boy is looming even closer.

His scent is like a damn rollercoaster: one second, Wade is almost sure of his endotype ( _ **Remember? Mutant? You aren't going to find one.**_ ) but then it goes from the pungent bitterness of angry Alpha to the sourness of stressed Beta to the heart-wrenching iron of fearful Omega. Wade thinks he's in love.

The boy scowls, the Alpha scent washing over him in waves. "You're disgusting."

"Oops, did I say that out loud?" He laughs nervously, feeling like he's shrinking beneath the man's knife-sharp gaze. "Sorry about that. Just comes out! Oh - that sounded dirty-"

Leaning forward, the man puts pressure on Wade's throat in warning; he almost laughs - he's just being so damn _gentle_ about it it's hard not to giggle about it. It hardly hurts and the kid is being careful not to do anything that could possibly cause damage. Instead of applying pressure on his trachea, he's expertly squeezing to place strain on the arteries instead. He'd be really fucking good in bed; Wade actually has to wonder if he learned how to do this _in_ _bed_. It's fucking precious.

"You disgust me," the kid reiterates, voice dripping with venom, and he just barely eases forward to make it difficult for Wade to breathe. "How could you do this?"

Something about his tone makes it sound so _intimate_ \- like Wade has personally hurt this gorgeous boy laid out across his chest, breath steady, eyes vicious. Shame bubbles up in his chest, in his throat, until bitterness reaches his tongue. He swallows hard, fingers twitching around the man's wrist.

"It was an old picture," he confesses, voice small. "I'm sorry."

 _ **His picture wasn't real either. If he's pissy because of that, he's a hypocrite.**_

"True."

Stricken, he stares down at Wade as if he's speaking Greek. "What?"

Squirming, Wade laughs stiffly. "I think… we're not on the same page here."

After a tense moment spent studying Wade's expression, the kid tries to pull his wrist free once more with just a quick jerk ( _Jerk!_ ) to no avail. Wade stubbornly holds on.

"Where are my manners?" he gasps, amused by the little furrow of the boy's brows. "Hi there! My name is Wade Wilson!" He shakes his wrist eagerly, grinning up at him through the mask. "I'm, like, maybe ten hours from my rut and I'm not sure what's up with you but damn am I in need of a good fuck."

The silence that follows is oppressive. Wade wants to continue to babble and rant but the look in those eyes keeps him from saying anything more. Instinct tells him to crack a joke, to lighten the mood, but the almost horrifying lack of guidance from the voices in his head and the _actually_ horrifying severity of this man's face has him shutting up for once in his life.

"I can't believe this," he whispers, and suddenly he looks so much older, world-weary and burdened, that it twists Wade up inside. He's obviously feeling _guilty_ and it's really confusing to say the least.

Once more, he tries to pull away, but at this point Wade's fingers are locked around his wrist and they aren't going anywhere. Making a rough noise low in his throat, annoyed, the man bows over him, those doe eyes trained on Wade's own. Even through the leather of his gloves, his breath is warm against his hands; shivers wrack his spine, skin prickling at the back of his neck just from those eyes trailing over his face.

It's so intense that Wade feels like the kid is looking right through his suit, through his skin, and to his goddamn soul. The vulnerability (yuck) of it has him itching to get out and get the fuck away. There's a twinge just behind his eyes that tells him he's really gonna want a bullet in his head before this is all said and done.

"You know," he begins, voice cracking like a goddamn pre-teen's, but the boy's lips part and it's like all the words die on his tongue.

The voices are gone, and in their place is a throbbing pain. He wants to put a bullet between his own eyes. He feels lost, and maybe a little stupid, but when doesn't he? At this point, he just wants to get this kid off him so he can retreat and lick his wounds in peace.

The boy doesn't look away from his eyes even once, forcing the contact to continue even as he lowers his head. Breath caught in his throat, Wade wonders if he could kill himself by holding that breath before - well, before whatever is happening _happens_ because he gets the distinct feeling he's about to embarrass himself. Just as he thinks he's garnered enough sense to respond, the man's brown eyes slide shut, his lips ghosting over his thumb, the touch too light to feel through his glove.

The noise that escapes Wade's throat is so high and thin that it takes a moment for him to realize he's the one who made it. He can't take his eyes off the boy with his long lashes and plush lips and flushed cheeks. Teeth sink into his wrist, and he's so shocked by the sight of those lips closing around leather that his grip slackens, releases the kid's arm.

Moving faster than he would have expected of some plain man, he hops up and back out the door before Wade can even think to object. But he must be stupid because he doesn't leave, instead lingering there, staring down at the other man as if he can't put his finger on him; it's a look Wade knows all too well. He's shaken though, his face a little paler than it was and his lips twisted into a tight frown.

Wavering, he looks down the hall both ways as if considering his options, then back to Wade. "You're actually Deadpool?" he asks, hesitant as if afraid of the answer.

 _ **Wait, what now?**_

 _He knows us!_

 _ **Red flag.**_

 _That he knows us? That's not a red flag-_

 _ **Consider who we are and what we do, idiot.**_

… _Oh, shit. That's a red flag._

Cautious, Wade sits up but makes no move to stand; he's still not sure of the boy's type and the last thing he wants is to piss off another Alpha right now, particularly when he can feel the weak heat of his rut pooling in his abdomen. He's not really in a position to defend himself, to say the least. So far, he's held his rut back pretty well but he's running low on self control after having a handsome man draped across his chest, smelling like sin.

"Yeah, I'm Deadpool. Y'know - Merc with a Mouth, Regeneratin' Degenerate, resident assassin, sexiest man alive," he babbles. "And I will gladly use that mouth on you! Pretty boy," he adds, almost timid, feeling his face grow warm.

 _ **What are you even thinking?**_

 _Cuuute boooy…._

 _ **Jesus Christ.**_

It's worth the teasing to see the pink rise to his face and the fluttering of his pulse beneath his pale skin. Pleasure coils in the pit of him, warm and effervescent, and the sight has a smile curling his lips. Wade watches, already enamored, as the man's expression shifts from disgruntled to begrudgingly and _shyly_ pleased, his lips pressed into a thin line to stifle what's obviously a smirk and his eyes trained on the wall.

For a moment, Wade is dumbstruck by the boy's expression before it finally sinks in that _he_ did _that_ and he's grinning like a goddamn fool. He got this gorgeous-beautiful-sexy stranger to look all flattered and wary and utterly _perfect_. He'd do anything to see that expression over a plate of tacos and those cinnamon things or, even better, while this pretty thing's clothes are on his floor and he's tucked in Wade's _good_ bed - the one in his apartment in Chicago.

He has the prettiest goddamn lips Wade has ever seen, not to mention the tight bod he's obviously hiding under all those layers. The itch that creeps across his skin as his eyes slide over the boy's in turn is enough to tell him his rut is definitely kicking in. Even then, it's hard to give a fuck. He almost misses the boy's words he's so caught up in watching the movement of those _lips_.

Sighing, the boy repeats himself, "Are you here because of the attacks?"

Scratching his chin, Wade considers the question - considers those pretty, _pretty_ lips, honestly. So far as he can tell, the only attack here is the one on him. He's likely forgetting a recent assassination attempt or he missed a bad drug deal downstairs or _something_ but it's sort of hard to care because holy hell those fucking lips and god what would it be like to kiss them?

He leans back, pursing his own lips as he takes in the hardened look on that young face. He imagines what this gorgeous boy's lips would look like pursed and pouty, too, which is a mistake because as soon as he does his cock is twitching with interest between his thighs. But that's nothing compared to thinking about those _lips_ around his dick.

 _I think I'm gonna die._

… _**Honestly? Same.**_

"Deadpool?" he snaps, and when he says it Wade feels a little uneasy. Or maybe that's just indigestion from the _Blair's Ultra Death Hot Sauce_ he had at lunch.

Finally, he shrugs and says, "Yeeeah. I am. Here because of the attacks, I mean. Who's askin'?"

With a scoff and a little curl of his lips, the kid steps forward, offering his hand to the other man. Staring at it dumbly, Wade doesn't dare move. He feels like he's going to ruin everything if he so much as breathes because a pretty boy just hit him but now he's sort of smiling lopsidedly and offering to touch him and sweet baby Jesus how'd this even happen?

"I figured you weren't," he laughs, but his eyes are warm. After a beat, when Wade doesn't respond or take the offered hand, the he steps back, hand falling away awkwardly.

He clears his throat. "Right. I'm James. I'm the one who set up that account."

"No shit!" Wade titters and rocks back. "What's your real name, sweetcheeks? You look like a Daniel. A Nick? Maybe something cooler like _Xander_."

"My name is not _Xander_ ," he says incredulously. "And for now you can just call me James-"

Wade whines, hunching his back dramatically. "But _cuuutie_! I'll tell you mine!"

"You already did, remember?" he snarks with a wave of his hand. "Did you actually put up that profile?"

 _ **What's that supposed to mean?**_

 _Something's amiss!_

 _ **Yeah, some- Wait, what? Did you really just-**_

 _Let me have some fun!_

 **Fun** _ **doesn't involve the word "amiss." What are you? A-**_

 _Shut uuup!_

"God, you're giving me a headache," Wade growls, tapping his knuckles against his temple roughly.

James snorts. "So, _so_ sorry."

"What? Oh! Oh no, no, no! I was talking to them!" he explains, pointing to his temple. "The voices!"

He doesn't bat an eye. "Alright. I'm serious, though, so I'd really appreciate it…" He bends down, resting a hand on the top of his head, eyes searching. Wade goes stiff, ready to hear something condescending or cruel spill from the kid's lips. "If they'd ease up for a minute and let you think."

Wade stays stiff because good god the boy's fingers drift over the side of his face and it sends shivers down his spine even though their skin is separated by leather. The touch is almost cruelly gentle and not at all what he was prepared for and James smells lovely, like soft Omega and protective Alpha and gentle Beta all at once. Wade's heart can hardly take this treatment.

"Holy shit," he squeaks, and the boxes are dead silent.

"Huh? Did I make it worse?"

He actually looks _worried_ and Wade thinks he might be hallucinating.

"You aren't hallucinating."

"Oh, did I say that out loud, too?"

"Nah, just sort of guessed."

His smile is lopsided and so, so pretty that Wade thinks his heart is about to fucking quit on him. This can't possibly be real. He's too soft, too bizarre, and, most importantly, too good to be true.

James's face falls into that same exasperated expression from before. "Okay, you said _that_ out loud."

Wade laughs, manic and strained. "You sure are handling this well!"

James offers his hand again. "I've dealt with stranger. Can you help me with this, though?" He pauses, considering Wade, then says, "It would mean a lot to me. Innocent people are getting hurt. It's not right."

Wade blinks at him, thinking he sounds a hell of a lot like Spidey, and liking it more than he should. Finally, he grabs his hand in both of his own, his pulse so loud in his ears he can hardly focus on what he's doing. "Of course. Anything for a man with lips like yours."

It's fun to watch the expressions flitting across his face as Wade's words sink in, and it's cute when it finally settles on what Wade interprets as "frustratedly exasperated but shy and a little flattered." He's probably way off but he can dream.

That mutant strength makes itself known again when James pulls him to his feet with no trouble at all. Standing, it's clear he has a few inches on the slighter man and he probably has fifty or so pounds to go with it, but he doesn't think it matters. He looks up at him with sharp eyes, all dark and beautiful and _dangerous_. Wade swoons.

This is going to be fun. So, so much fun.

 _ **There are so many things wrong with this….**_

 _What's wrong about helping out a man with an ass like that?_

 _ **He looks like he's fucking twelve.**_

 _He's fucking_ built _\- there's no way-_

 _ **It's called hyperbole! Look it up!**_

"Hey, how old are you?" Wade asks, trying and failing to sound casual.

James gives him a dull look. "Why? Feeling guilty about ogling my ass?"

Deja vu makes Wade pause. The little quirk to his lips and the way he cocks his head makes him think of Spidey again. It's pathetic but true.

 _ **You're delusional. I can't believe your ridiculous crush is this bad.**_

Glancing over James once more, he swallows down his unease like he always does, chuckling lowly. "Nah, the voices are, though."

He honest to god _laughs_ at that - bright and honeyed and fucking beautiful as all hell.

 _Oh…._

 _ **He's going to fucking**_ **ruin** _ **us.**_

Wade thinks he's okay with that.

"I'm sorry," Peter says suddenly, sounding so goddamn sincere that Wade wants to assure him it's a-okay, hunkydory, but he's too busy wondering what the hell there is for him to be sorry for. "For hurting you," he answers, as if he can read his expression even through the mask. "Things have been… tense."

Wade nods like he totally understands. He doesn't.

"Want tacos?" The question pops out before he can stop himself and the look James gives him has him shrinking back.

 _ **Smooth.**_

 _Our date isn't ruined!_

 _ **This isn't a date.**_

James leans to the side to peer into Wade's apartment as if just now realizing this might not be the best idea. He twists his lips, avoiding meeting his eyes. Wade's heart sinks.

" _Carne asada_ ," he singsongs, trying to tempt him, and he does look tempted, his teeth digging into one pretty lip. Still, he shrugs, looking to the side, nostrils flaring, and Wade realizes what's wrong. He wasn't apologizing for hurting him, at least not just that, but for speeding up his rut with the adrenalin and conflict. It's sort of sweet.

"Oh!" Wade says, a little amused. "And- Um, don't- I'm not going to- I can control myself," he finally gets out, laughing as he rubs the back of his neck. It's hard to speak with the kid looking at him so intensely. "To be honest I can't tell your endotype! But, in case you are an Omega or a Beta, I just want you to know I'm not going to be a dick and use my rut as some sort of excuse to be a bastard. You get what I'm trying to say?"

His eyes soften, the last of his discomfort seeming to slip away. "I get it, yeah."

He shifts to the side, hoping James will actually come in ( _ **No way.**_ ) and he does, tugging at the edge of his hoodie to straighten it as he goes. It's fucking precious. Wade is ready to kiss this kid.

"Say, uh, do you mind me asking?" he broaches, sucking in another breath of the man's scent just because he's thinking about it; it still reveals nothing.

"Manners," James growls back, once again all Alpha, but the look he casts in Wade's direction is amused and soft.

"Goodbye Moonmen," Wade whispers, slack jawed and staring as James hesitantly wanders into his apartment.

 _ **This isn't good - and what the fuck was that reference? Get that fucking mutant out of our apartment before he turns into a raging Alpha-Beta-Omega nightmare and kills us or something.**_

He grins and closes the door.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think!


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